By Kelly Luce


I don’t need to walk to the ocean.
I can see the ocean from here.
I have walked the path to the ocean before.

I know the dirt’s grip.
I know the bullfrog’s rev.
The ducks are brand new.
Last night paper tubes heaved upward.
We went out, sandals undone.

I am rarely moved
and when I am I can hardly discuss it.

Let us bite jellybeans
and expose our throats
to beauty’s sudden punch.
Let us bet on lanterns.
Which will fall first, which will rise beyond
manufacturer promises
and speed due west.
Bloated, tipping, glowing,


KELLY LUCE is the author of Three Scenarios in Which Hana Sasaki Grows a Tail (A Strange Object, 2013). Her work has been recognized by fellowships from the MacDowell Colony, Ragdale Foundation, the Kerouac Project, and Jentel Arts, and has appeared in the Chicago Tribune, Salon, American Short Fiction, The Southern Review, and other magazines. She lives in Austin, Texas, where she is a fellow at the Michener Center for Writers and a fiction editor at Bat City Review.

One response to “Afternoon”

  1. Marshall says:

    Enjoyed this very much. Didn’t realize Luce also wrote poetry.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *